


it’s not what it seems, maybe it’s something in between?

by fkaps2point0



Series: i don’t know how to be happy, but if i'm with you i think it’s possible [1]
Category: Start-Up (Korea TV), 스타트업 | Start-Up
Genre: But he doesn't know it yet, F/M, Gen, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:22:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fkaps2point0/pseuds/fkaps2point0
Summary: He's absolutely sure it's not what he thinks,But the way his heart feels like it might implode makes him waver just a bit before he brushes it off.Or: Ji-pyeong trying not to think about Dal-mi while he thinks about Dal-mi
Relationships: Han Ji-Pyeong/Seo Dal-Mi
Series: i don’t know how to be happy, but if i'm with you i think it’s possible [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009962
Comments: 27
Kudos: 97





	it’s not what it seems, maybe it’s something in between?

**Author's Note:**

> Final form to be reached, editing is an ongoing process!

The word invaluable didn’t exist in Han Ji-pyeong’s dictionary, and there was nothing in the world up until this point that he couldn't put a price on.

Winning first prize in an investing competition when he was eighteen: 100 million won in virtual money, worth almost as much as the pathetic board the obnoxiously red award was painted on.

The rent he paid to stay at Halmeoni's after leaving the orphanage: A couple of letters spanning a year of his life and the odd chore here and there (hardly quantifiable tasks, but if he sat down and recounted the number of hours he'd spent comforting a girl who thought he was someone else, and factored in the average part-timer wage rate adjusted for inflation, he was sure he'd be able to come up with a monetary compensation that equated his troubles).

A ticket to the rest of his life: 80 million won and losing the only person who cared about him for fifteen years.

And then, it became a part of his everyday.

Putting a value on people's hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, often times efforts that were barely worth the exertion made to produce them. Associating a dollar amount with a person's life would probably feel inhumane, cruel even, to most. But for Ji-pyeong it became second nature, and in his field of work, it meant the difference between failure and success, the latter which he had fought tooth and nail to achieve and wasn't about to let go. 

Then, Samsan Tech, Seo Dal-mi, and a lie he told years ago as a favour to the woman who took him in, all came to a front, causing the principles and values he upheld so staunchly to crumble, as if the pillars holding them up were a facade all along.

Samsan Tech was simple enough. The funds Samsan Tech needed to stay afloat, to be given at the very least a fighting chance in the cutthroat world of start-ups: 100 million won.

Samsan Tech was the easy, straightforward part. The one he'd become accustomed to and knew what to expect from.

But as Ji-pyeong glanced at Dal-mi, fast asleep in the passenger seat next to him after swearing she wouldn't sleep in someone else's car, he thinks.

He thinks, and for the first time in his life, or at least the first time he can recall, he's stumped.

_What the hell am I doing?_

He caught himself before a smile, a barely visible smile surfacing after observing a still unconscious Dal-mi's mouth wide open in exhaustion as she mumbled quietly in her sleep, turned into a full fledged grin.

It wasn't like him to jump head first into a situation that had nothing to do with him. So why was it that when his colleague called him all the way from Gapyeong, informing him of Dal-mi's presence and obvious lack of a ride back to Seoul, that he dropped everything he was doing to come to her rescue? 

He's certain it can't be what he thinks it is.

Right?

It started off innocent enough, he mulls over in his head as he weaves expertly in and out of traffic. Do-san, who Dal-mi loved but didn't really love because it was actually him so he roped in real Do-san to play a part the fake Do-san aka real Ji-pyeong was too scared to own up to.

And that was that. A well intentioned lie which had gone on far too long and would be exposed any day now. Seo Dal-mi was a lot of things, insistent, stubborn, annoying (he thinks irritatedly, then fondly), but nowhere amongst the list of qualities that Seo Dal-mi possessed could one rationalize calling her stupid. In fact, to Ji-pyeong's surprise, she held all the traits of talented and successful CEOs he'd observed across his years of experience. Sure, there was room for refinement and an occasional reality check, but that's what Sandbox was for. That's what he was for.

 _That's it_ , Ji-pyeong attempts to convince himself. That's all this was. It was his role as a mentor to nurture the future leader of Samsan Tech, the bright individual snoring away beside him, whether that be through answering four hundred questions overnight or providing a home for her dung covered shoes, the scent of which would take days to air out of his car.

Except deep down, he knew it wasn't just about fulfilling a role or repaying a debt. 

Never in his life had he done what he was doing for Seo Dal-mi for others before her. Nor does he think his sudden change in behaviour is a result of wanting to be a better person, as bad as it may sound.

Nothing was different. Samsan Tech was just another company in the league of startups Ji-pyeong been involved in. It was work he was used to, and it was work that he excelled at. Everything was the same, yet, Seo Dal-mi effectively rendered his experience useless and proved his knowledge lacking, both of which couldn't prepare him for the shocking realization he couldn't get himself to arrive at.

"What's ordinary for some could be extraordinary for others," Dal-mi had proclaimed easily, during a game of Go-Stop that made his heart feel light and the lies he'd maintained to ease up (even if for just a little while), as if it was common sense, gesturing towards Do-san with a nod, "Right?"

_Thud._

It was the familiar heart dropping sensation he'd felt back then, settling in the pit of his stomach like a knot that wouldn't untie itself.

He'd forced himself to gulp down his stutter, smoothing his expression into an easygoing, agreeable smile, one that he hoped would mask the surprise he otherwise felt at agreeing to a question directed at Do-san, or fake Do-san, Do-san who was actually Ji-pyeong that the real Do-san was pretending to be.

It was tiring, really. Maintaining a lie that was benefiting none of the people involved, and only serving to hurt the one it sought to protect in the first place when she uncovered the truth. Because as Ji-pyeong had now witnessed, and as he'd somewhat known to be true all along, Seo Dal-mi was a lot of things, but she was not clueless. She would find out eventually, the truth behind the comforting letters from her past and the person who actually wrote them. 

And if he’s being completely honest, Ji-pyeong hopes, as he eases his car into a parking space gently so not to prematurely rouse Dal-mi awake, that when she finds out, she won't hate him forever.

Because, as much as it hurts to admit it, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he doesn't think he'll be able to handle that.

Ji-pyeong peers over the NoonGil business plan draft he'd began to mark up through his train of incessant thoughts, his gaze drifting to Dal-mi, who for some godforsaken reason was still not awake, even after he’d made a momentary stop to pick up the first pair of sandals he’d found in her size at a random store on the drive back (he made a mental note to emphasize the benefits of rest and how successful CEOs still managed to sleep a minimum of eight hours a day the next time they spoke or inevitably engaged in another frustrating back and forth, even if it wasn't true). The booklet was previously peeking out over the top of her tote bag, and in true venture capitalist fashion he'd promptly began to browse through it, making suggestions and edits in neat handwriting along the margins of the slides.

A tendril of hair had made its way to the centre of her face, causing her brow to slightly furrow and her nose to scrunch almost imperceptiblely. Ji-pyeong reached out, hesitantly, much like when he'd stopped himself from removing the thread intertwined in Dal-mi's hair as she bid him and Do-san farewell outside her home. This time though, he swept it back, fingertips slightly brushing her cheek as they unavoidably made contact.

There's a moment, where Ji-pyeong wants desperately to know what it feels like to kiss Dal-mi, his eyes resting on her lips, lingering.

Would it be gentle, like the softspoken reassurances he'd overheard her whispering to Do-san as they overcame hurdles on their path to Sandbox and as they made their way through the unforgiving startup world? Or would it be intense, tension laced and fiery like the way she fought back and argued with him when Ji-pyeong tried his best to force her to see things his way, attempting to coax her into accepting the world for what it truly was beyond her rose tinted vision of it thus far?

In the process of making Dal-mi understand him, Ji-pyeong muses as he straightened his back, noticing Dal-mi slowly awaken, she was starting to make sense to him too. Their interactions, which before would make him apprehensive, afraid of slipping up, were now ones that he anticipated, and undeniably felt disappointed when they came to an end all too quickly. 

  
“Did I fall asleep? No way.”

“Yes, you completely passed out in someone else’s car.”

This had to stop. This was the guilt and obligation talking, the burden of owing something to someone that he couldn’t place a value on, one he needed to relieve himself of before it drove him insane.

Then,

She goes back to Gapyeong to get him the kalguksu he used as a throwaway excuse, only remembering it when she’d arrived at his office a few days later, a large bottle of broth and various side dishes in tow.

And suddenly, it becomes clear to him. It’s no longer as easy as a simple debt he needs to repay anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> Take a shot every time Ji-pyeong “thinks” in this hahaha
> 
> I really want to write more for these two, but I’m waiting until I have more material to work with. Such a good show overall, not one character I dislike (except maybe In Jae’s asshole stepfather lol) and for once I genuinely would be happy with whatever endgame we are given. 
> 
> That being said second lead syndrome is a disease and i've self-diagnosed as terminal😔im riding this ship all the way to the end lol.


End file.
